


Heaven's Eyes

by RedPaladin465



Series: Into Chaos [2]
Category: Fabula Nova Crystallis: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XIII Series, Final Fantasy XIII-2, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: 500 year gap, 500 years of Chaos, Gen, Hope is tortured towards the end, Lightning Returns Spoilers, Nova Chrysalia, not ship-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPaladin465/pseuds/RedPaladin465
Summary: Nearly two hundred years after the events of Oncoming Storm, Hope continues to research the Chaos on Bhunivelze as Snow, Noel, and Sazh monitor the situation down on Nova Chrysalia. Hope has been having the same recurring nightmare for a century now- the image of a rose-haired phantom, her name lost in the recesses of his memory- as he searches desperately for answers. Things become more dire as the highly classified team of researchers and scientists begin disappearing one by one, and young Dajh Katzroy falls into a coma.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> It's here!!!!
> 
> I took a 4-month long hiatus from XIII after Oncoming Storm was finished- partially to take a break, but partially to finish Nox Caelum, my long XV fic- and now I'm back with the second installment of the Into Chaos series! This picks up almost two hundred years after the ending of the first fic. I'm super excited to continue this journey with y'all; it will be a much, much shorter installment than the previous arc, but it will have key events and turning points that will lead into the final arc and then into Lightning Returns when we reach the end.
> 
> Welcome to new readers, and welcome back to older readers! Thank you so much for your patience with this series, and I hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**Bhunivelze – 700AF**

There she- Hope was fairly certain it was a she- was again. It was the same thing every time, a transparent, glowing figure in the darkness. He couldn’t see much of her, but then she moved, and he saw the flash of peculiar-colored hair. Not that his own silver hair was completely ordinary, but hers stirred something deep in his memory, that color so striking, so incredibly special that he felt her name just on the tip of his tongue, but as his mouth opened to form the word, it disappeared. _Please_ , he wanted to call out to her, arms outstretched. _Please, wait!_

His gloved fingers grasped at air, at nothing; frustration filled him as he struggled to reach, struggled to remember her name, her name, her _name_. “Please,” Hope begged. “Please, a name-“

And he was awake, his body flailing, legs tangled in his sheets before he managed to extract himself, sitting up on his bed and swinging his legs over until his bare feet hit the cold floor. Panting, Hope ran his ungloved hands over his messy, bed-ridden silver hair before they came together over his face, attempting to get himself to calm down. Cold sweat trickled onto his fingers and palms as he waited it out, waited for his brain to register that it had only been a dream, a nightmare, waited for his heartbeat to slow. Shakily, Hope stood and walked over to his desk, grabbing his glass of water before he padded out of his room and down the hall into his personal lab, opening the second door to what had been dubbed the Crystal Chamber.

Inside, the singular crystal placed in the middle of the room glowed a calming hue, helping just a little in soothing his fragile nerves. Hope dropped his forehead against the shape of the shoulder of a young woman lying on her side, her crystalized curls framing her face.

“Vanille, what am I doing?” he groaned quietly. “Two hundred years, and I’m still here. Vanille, what am I doing?”

The girl gave no answer, the smile hidden in the corner of her mouth frozen, just as it had been the past seven hundred years. Hope took deep breaths through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “I had that dream again,” he told her quietly. “Someone was there, waiting in the dark- I…still don’t know who- I can’t even think of a name. But…I know her. I know I know her.”

Maybe, he thought to himself, she would tell him to take a break. Vanille would smile that bright, sunny smile of hers, lace their fingers together, and drag him running through fields like she did when they were both still teenagers running through the Archlyte Steppe. He had been fourteen then, and she had been nineteen, had been nineteen for six hundred years before then, had been nineteen for over a thousand years now. Fang would tell him the same thing, to do what he needed to keep a level head, and Lightning, oh his heart ached for his mentor, frozen in crystal stasis, knowing exactly where she was and unable to get her out. Lightning would tell him the same, probably to attack the problem from a different angle.

Hope straightened and looked over at Fang, curled up with her hand clasped in Vanille’s, and then at Serah Farron, whose body had been suspended in stasis for two hundred years beside their crystal. He ran a hand through his already-messy hair and sighed, thinking about the inbox in his office that had been left beeping and unanswered.

_Snow Villiers – 9 missed calls, 2 messages_

_“Hey Hope, haven’t seen or heard from you in a couple of weeks. Call me back.” -beep-_

_“Hope, it’s me. Getting worried about you. Call me back.” -beep-_

_Noel Kreiss – 6 missed calls, 1 message_

_“Hope, it’s Noel. Call me back. Things are…not great down here. Snow and I are worried. So is Sazh. Dajh keeps asking about you.” -beep-_

_Sazh Katzroy – 2 missed calls, 1 message_

_“Hey Hope, hope you’re doing okay. It’s bee a while, wanted to hear how you’re handling things up there. I know it can’t be easy. Dajh misses you, and we’re concerned. You know you’ll always have us behind you, kiddo- well, you’re no kid anymore, but, well, you know. Drop us a line. Lightning, Fang, and Vanille would tell you the same.” -beep-_

_Director Nazca – 1 missed call_

“I have to get to the bottom of this,” Hope said aloud, his voice raspy and rough from sleep, but firm. “It’s been two hundred years since the Chaos was released. I’ve been researching all of this- time travel, the Time Gates and the Chaos itself warping everything, and…” he clenched his fist. “And I’m getting nowhere. Two hundred years, on top of the five hundred I already had. We’re running into the same questions and the same results over and over that don’t give us any answers. People are still dying, and no one is being born.”

Hope squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again, his confusion, frustration, and loneliness all of a sudden absent from his features. He put a hand on top of the joined ones of the two Oerbans in front of him. “I swear, we’re going to get those answers soon. I swear it. We can still help people. We can still save the world, just like we did before. This world is going to become one you and Light and Serah can come home to.”


	2. ???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please,” Hope croaked, his voice dry. “Anybody. God, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya :)
> 
> I bring you a short update on this lovely Friday! There will be quite a few of these chapters...they'll make more sense towards the end why they're here, why they're like this and structured in this way. Thank you all so much your patience! Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**??? - ???AF**

The color of her hair beckoned him through the darkness. Hope blinked again.

Dream? Reality?

Did it matter at this point?

The strange, peculiar color flashed again. He could swear he knew the name of the color. He knew what it was called; he knew the name of the person. Her name was right there, just within reach. If he could stretch his fingertips just a little bit farther…and then she turned, ever so slightly, and he could see the curl at the end of her hair, stray pieces framing what he could see of her face, but then she was walking away, back into the darkness.

“No!” Hope yelled into the void. “Please! Wait! Please!” he begged. “I know you!”

Nothing- the darkness swallowed her whole, and he was left alone. Again.

He fell onto his knees, tears of frustration burning in his eyes. Desperately, he searched through his memories, trying to find something, anything that could help him identify the woman, anything…to keep him from feeling alone, left to his research high in the sky where none but five people knew of his whereabouts. Hope dashed the fact that it was him who had been determined to stay, to conduct research after research, test after test to try and save the world once again. This dream, he knew, he could _remember_ , had been haunting him for a century. Night after night, the same, familiar phantom taunting him, giving him more questions and no answers every time she appeared.

“Please,” Hope croaked, his voice dry. “Anybody. God, please.”

And then he heard it- a soothing voice, smooth like honey, immediately calming him. Oddly, he noted somewhere in the back of his mind, it sounded like- like Serah. Like what he could remember of Serah’s voice.

“What are you searching for, Hope?”

He swallowed. “Answers.”

The voice- Serah?- chuckled. “In time, Hope Estheim,” it said. “You’ll see. You’ll see it all.”


	3. Family's Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little boy in question lay on the bed, his father hunched over him, and Snow almost, almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then Sazh looked up and the blond felt the ground crumble from underneath him and it was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! It's been a little longer than I would like in posting this chapter, but here it is at last! A longer chapter to appease y'all and to move the plot forward :) I definitely took lines from Lightning Returns in this chapter, just because I thought it fit so well in this situation. Hope y'all like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**Yusnaan – 825AF**

Snow Villiers pushed the final sheet of paper in the stack to the corner of his desk and sighed, bringing a gloved hand up to rub his temple. His long blond hair fell past his eyes; he made a mental note to get a haircut at some point…after getting past the unending mound of paperwork The Academy insisted on. True, he had finished the final sheet of paper of the stack in front of him, but- he eyed the other two stacks sitting on the other side of his desk with disdain- he was far from finished. Blowing out a breath, he slapped a small smile on his face.

“Come on, Snow,” he said out loud, giving himself a pep talk. “You can do this. We’ll get it done. It’s only-“ he checked the clock. “Four in the afternoon.”

And with that, he groaned, the smile slipping as he dropped his forehead onto his desk. “Four in the afternoon,” Snow mumbled into the wood. The breath from his nostrils fogged the surface, the short stubble from his mustache and beard absorbing some of it.

Gross. He really needed that haircut.

A shrill beeping startled him, the l’Cie straightening immediately and reaching for his phone.

“Noel?”

“Snow,” the young hunter’s voice was clipped, tone colored with urgency. “You need to get to the Wildlands.”

“The Wildlands? Is it another attack?”

“No, it’s- it’s Sazh and Dajh. Snow, hurry.”

Snow was out of his office before the line cut.

* * *

It took longer than he would have liked to track Noel’s signal out in the Willands, but he finally spotted the brunet’s airbike near the wreckage of what looked like an old airship. The bits that stuck out of the earth were rusted an old, the green paint fading to gray. It seemed completely at odds with the frantic sounds of Noel’s call- it was too calm out here, the wind blowing gently, lulling him into a false sense of comfort. Warily, Snow landed Shiva and Nix; the Eidolons reverted from their motorbike form back into themselves, blowing him a frosty kiss before being fondly dismissed. Snow didn’t have to look far; there he was, Noel, pacing on the natural ridge that looked like it would lead to the interior of the wrecked ship.

“What’s going on?” the bigger man asked, already on edge. The distress in Noel’s eyes made his throat clamp up in nervousness. It had to be _bad_. “Is Sazh-“

“It’s Dajh,” Noel blurted, cutting him off.

Snow swore his heart stopped for a few moments as the young boy’s ever-smiling face flashed through his mind. A terrifying chill shot through his whole body as Noel continued to speak. “I got a call earlier from Sazh and came out as fast as I could, but-“

He trailed off, looking at the top of the earthen ramp. Snow hesitated, fearing what he would see, and then took a deep breath, braced himself, and walked the rest of the way up and into the open door. The scene in front of him made him stop momentarily in confusion.

It was a simply furnished house, a desk a table, a couple of chairs and bookshelves, a couch, a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling and illuminating the room. The little boy in question lay on the bed, his father hunched over him, and Snow almost, almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then Sazh looked up and the blond felt the ground crumble from underneath him ad it was _over_. The devastation was etched deeply into Sazh’s face, his eyes haunted with sadness and despair.

“Sazh?” Snow asked quietly, slowly approaching his friend.

“Dajh,” the older man said brokenly. “He won’t wake up. It’s been three days, and I’ve tried everything- he won’t wake.”

“Have you called Hope?”

Sazh almost scoffed. “I tried. The kid’s phone didn’t go through. He’s busy enough as it is. I’ll tell him when he comes down next. I don’t know what he’s been up to, but…”

Snow didn’t wait after that. His brow furrowed, and he turned and stalked out of the house, whipping out his phone and pressing ‘1’ on speed dial as he simultaneously lifted it to his ear. It rang once, twice, three times…and to his relief, Hope finally picked up.

“Snow?”

He sounded tired. “Hope. You need to come down to the Wildlands. We need your help.”

He cut the line, not giving the silveret a chance to ask questions. If he knew Hope- and he did- Hope would put down anything and everything in his hands to take care of his family. He would find the fastest way down to Nova Chrysalia, to them, and Snow was not disappointed. The scientist appeared a mere fifteen minutes later, the small airship putting him down at the bottom of the earthy slope. Immediately after the cockpit door was opened, Hope ran up to where Snow was standing, his aquamarine eyes never staying still as he took in everything about his surroundings.

“What is it?” he asked, slightly panicked. Snow observed the dark circles under his eyes, the pale demeanor Hope seemed to carry around all the time lately and resolved to ask him about it later. Now wasn’t the time.

“It’s Sazh and Dajh,” he replied. “Dajh is…well…”

Hope’s eyes widened and he took off to the house, running inside to see for himself. Snow followed slower, having no desire to repeat the conversation he already had with Sazh. It was perfect timing too; he could practically see the gears working in Hope’s head as Sazh hung his in defeat.

“What if we took him to Luxerion?” Noel pressed. “There’s a hospital there- or even Yusnaan, Dajh loved the festivities-“

“And do what? Wait longer?” Sazh said bluntly. He saw the brunet wince, and he so desperately wanted to apologize, to be easier on him, but his little boy’s life was hanging in the balance. “There’s nothing we can do here, and they won’t be able to do anything there either.”

Hope took out a small device from his toolbelt, holding over the child’s still form.

“Hope?” Snow asked quietly, holding a breath.

The little device beeped, and the scientist frowned. “Physically, he seems fine,” he said. “But I’m detecting no mental activity. Not even dreams. It’s as if…as if he’s in a coma.” He hesitated to say this last part, his eyes not meeting Sazh’s. “He’s just…not in there.”

Sazh’s composure finally cracked, putting a hand on his son’s face. “No…” he whispered. Gritting his teeth, he looked back up. “What can I do? What can we do?”

Hope put a gentle hand on Sazh- their father figure’s- shoulder, looking at him sadly, tiredly. “We wait. We monitor him, and we wait for him to wake up. I’m sorry, Sazh, that I don’t have an answer. It might be the Chaos. It might be that Dajh had been made a l’Cie before by a different fal’Cie, or that his body reacted in a different way now that the Chaos is spreading even stronger and even more than ever. But he’ll wake up, Sazh. You know we won’t stop until he does.”

* * *

“You look tired.”

Hope rubbed his face wearily, seeing Snow and Noel watch him from the corner of his eye. They had left Sazh’s in low spirits, the trio standing some ways away from the wreckage of the airship.

“I just haven’t been sleeping well,” Hope shrugged, not mentioning the nightmares he was constantly having, the shape that had been haunting him for a century.

“You need a break,” Noel said gently. “Hope, you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders, and you’re trying to solve all of these problems- you can’t do anything for anyone else if you can’t take care of yourself.”

His friend looked like he was about to argue, but Snow cut in at the last second. “What if you just come down for the weekends? It’ll be like any other full-time job. You can’t keep running yourself ragged like this, Hope. It’s been…a long time.”

He didn’t want to say exactly how long the young man had pushed himself to the brink. Hope was undoubtedly blaming himself, counting each and every day that the answers he needed never came, that he was up there, conducting research, still finding no ways to bring Serah, Lightning, Fang, and Vanille back. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Hope had counted down to the hour how long he would have felt like he failed them.

“Spend some time with us,” Noel pressed. “Maybe that’ll give you a fresher perspective on things. Who knows, it might even help you find the answers that you’re looking for.”

Hope seemed to consider it for a moment, but he broke into a small smile at last. “I’m sorry I haven’t been really been around,” he said almost sheepish. Snow clapped him on the back, pulling the younger man towards the bottom of the slope. Noel’s steps faltered a little behind them, the smile on his face giving way to sadness. He knew that Hope was up there in his lonely little world, trying to find impossible answers in an impossible situation. He knew Snow slaved away in Yusnaan, running the place and keeping an eye on the mass production of produce from Pandaemonium, trying to keep The Academy board from completely monopolizing the fal’Cie’s power, still mourning his fiancé from so long ago. He knew Sazh was in anguish over his comatose son, losing hope bit by bit as he sat alone in his little home.

Serah died over three hundred years ago.

Mog had disappeared one day, sixteen years after, without a single trace.

And Noel had his brothers, but he couldn’t help but see the lines that divided all of them, worried when those would eventually drive all of them apart.


	4. The Breach Widens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Something wrong?” Noel asked, a twisting feeling settling in his gut. Hope lifted his troubled gaze, aquamarine meeting blue.
> 
> “It’s Stacks,” he said. “He’s missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> Sorry for my month-long hiatus. Work has been super hectic lately, and I've been taking classes, so I've been super exhausted and without whole lot of time to write. Classes are now over, and weekly writing nights are back in session!! Which means updates will DEFINITELY be happening more frequently, especially since the story is now headed into the dark.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your patience. Really. It means more than you know :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**Luxerion – 830AF**

The river wind in Luxerion always managed to soothe Noel, literally giving him a breath of fresh air. He preferred being out in the Wildlands whenever he had the chance, but there was always business to take care of in the city. There were times he missed living simply off of the land out in the Pulsian Wilds; he comforted himself with the thought that at least the world would never be as complicated as Academia in 4XX AF, the one he and Serah spent hours getting lost exploring, after the Chaos Influx. The hunter closed his eyes, relishing the breeze that ruffled his brown hair, the calming sound of running water bringing his breathing to an even, steady rhythm.

The moment shattered when a beeping sound filled the air. Next to him, Hope sighed, stretching and pulling his phone from his toolbelt. Reading his message, his brows furrowed as a metaphorical storm cloud passed over his face.

“Something wrong?” Noel asked, a twisting feeling settling in his gut. Hope lifted his troubled gaze, aquamarine meeting blue.

“It’s Stacks,” he said. “He’s missing.”

* * *

“No one’s seen him in a couple of days, sir,” Hope’s assistant, Lecia, reported, scurrying after him as soon as he arrived back on Bhunivelze.

“Who brought this to our attention?” he asked. Lecia bit her lip.

“I did, sir.”

Penny in the air. Hope suddenly stopped walking, looking at the girl closely. The nervous blonde in front of him sported bright green streaks in her hair, a feature he had noticed first about her as soon as she had been assigned to him when he arrived in Academia 500AF. Though they worked quite closely together the past three centuries, Hope had been cognizant never to pry into her personal life, but over the past half a century, if his memory served him right, he _did_ remember seeing her and Stacks together around the Academy HQ quite often. Penny fell.

“You’re…his girlfriend?”

A blush spread across Lecia’s cheeks, a small, timid smile quirking up the corners of her lips before the worried look fell back over her face. She quickly nodded. “Yes.”

Well, that made a lot more sense. Hope resumed walking, the girl falling into step beside him. “You haven’t seen him in a couple of days?”

“Yes, sir,” Lecia replied. “We were supposed to meet up a couple of days ago, and I thought he had just gotten sick. But he hasn’t called in at all the past two days, and no one has seen or heard from him.”

Hope frowned, his mind running ten miles a minute. He and the young scientist had certainly gotten along extremely well, especially after he had taken Stacks under his wing in academics and research. Stacks had a brilliant mind and served many times as a springboard for Hope’s thoughts whenever he voiced them out loud. He was always courteous to everyone around him while efficient at his job, and he never, ever failed to be respectful whenever he walked into the Crystal Room and saw Fang and Vanille. Stacks was like the younger brother Hope never had, and that worried him.

“We’ll find him, Lecia,” he said firmly, for both their sakes. “For now, keep a close eye on everyone, and make sure they all report in as soon as they begin work and leave work each day.”

Fire burned in Lecia’s eyes, the same one that spurred her on in her duties as his assistant all the hundreds of years passed. The girl was bright, intelligent; really, Hope couldn’t have asked for anyone better at her job. He had every confidence that Stacks would be found, as he had every confidence that in bringing her in to help would help them get to the bottom of it all.

Everything worked perfectly for another week until Lecia went missing.

* * *

Hope nearly slammed his fist into the console in front him as the data appeared on screen.

STAFF:  
Hope Estheim – IN  
Stacks Orregan – OUT  
Pidge Holt-Kogane – OUT  
Sorcha Sinclair – IN  
Willim Nalath – OUT  
Kali Grethor – IN  
Eon Thorston – IN  
Giah Powers – IN  
Elias Rackowsky – IN  
Keynan Lauerson – OUT  
Cassidy Scotwood – IN

ASSISTANTS:  
Lecia Hurdy – OUT  
Brenton Sophiar – IN  
Kaya Storm – IN  
Tonya Ascot – IN  
Rhys Dalleon – OUT

OTHER AUTHORIZED USERS:  
Keith Kogane - OUT

Two weeks. Two weeks was all it took for nearly half of his staff to go missing. Everyone who remained were all incredibly tense and on edge, not knowing why so many of their coworkers had suddenly disappeared without a trace. The feeling that it was only going to be worse from there on out permeated the atmosphere, almost stifling in the moments where everyone bustled about in the labs and looking at the empty desks of their fellow researchers and assistants. It wasn’t as if they had never existed either, no, it was the leftover coffee mugs still half-full, the sheets of paper scattered everywhere, their remaining personal effects that made it all the more unsettling. This was truly the calm before the storm, the sickening moment of silence before everything erupted into chaos.

Hope was more than grateful for the remaining staff who continued with their research and work despite the fear that was so prevalent it was almost tangible. Losing Stacks, then Lecia, then Pidge and Keith- those had been hard losses. Those were his best minds, his best help, his best fighters. It was- unnerving. It was everything he could do to keep going, retreating into the Crystal Room every night to curl up next to Fang and Vanille’s still forms.

* * *

The nightmares never stopped, even next to the two Oerbans. The rose-haired phantom beckoned him deeper into the darkness every night, promising answers, promising to help, promising that everything would be made clear. That those who had gone missing would return. And Hope, Hope was desperate for answers.

It was the last night of 830AF when Hope woke up as he did every night, sheets wrapped tightly around his legs and his forehead, back, and chest damp with sweat that he couldn’t hold it off any longer. He flung his arm to his bedside table, ripped his phone off, and made a single call.

* * *

The expression on Snow’s face was one Hope and Noel had never seen before, and Hope had known the guy for nearly a thousand years.

“What do you mean people have been going missing?” the blond asked, his jaw clenched tightly. Hope ran a shaky hand through his silver hair.

“Exactly what I said. They just…didn’t show up for work one day, with absolutely no record of where they went. No transports missing, and everything just as they left them in their labs and in their rooms. Just…”

He swallowed hard, and Noel put a hand on his shoulder in a silent support.

“I had a dream last night.”

“And?” Snow asked with a strained voice.

“I’ve…had the same dream for a while now.”

His unspoken question hung in the air. _How long?_

Hope closed his eyes. “A hundred years.”

He slumped his shoulders as if carrying a heavy burden, the weight of centuries weighing heavily on his frame, eyes dropping to the ground as his silver bangs hung limply, tickling his cheeks. “I need answers,” he said quietly. “I’ve been searching for answers, and she…she promised. She promised she had them. I…I need to know.”

And then he told them about the rose-haired phantom, the one he couldn’t recall the name of, just out of reach, about how he had seen her every night the past hundred years. Noel and Snow’s faces were twin expressions of shock and grief and worry, and Hope was tired, so tired, so tired.

The only thing he didn’t tell them was just how far into the darkness he followed her.


	5. Stormstrike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Stacks is gone. More are disappearing. I fear time is no longer on our side- never on our side to begin with. We had so much, and now none left. We have taken it for granted.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, darlings!
> 
> Apologies again for the wait. This chapter initially ended up too short, so I had to think about how I wanted to expand on this, as this is a very pivotal moment in the trilogy. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**Luxerion – 831AF**

“Someone told me I’d find you here,” Snow said as he plopped down next to Noel, who was perched on top of the clock tower in Luxerion’s South Station. The view was spectacular from above, and the river wind reached them, even there. It ruffled their hair happily, a mild attempt by the breeze to sweep their heavy hearts away. Noel’s gaze was fixed on the horizon, not even acknowledging the bigger man’s approach. The two friends shared a quiet moment, letting the sounds from the city below reach them and settle them in the moment, the sounds of life blanketing them in a false sense of normalcy.

“I’m worried about Hope,” Noel finally said after a few minutes.

The blond nodded. “Have you heard from him lately?”

“Not in a couple of weeks,” Noel replied, shaking his head.

There was no need to say it out loud- the fact that Hope hadn’t checked in with them in a while was worrisome, even with the scientist’s penchant to work and forget about everything else, completely disregarding the passage of time as he conducted experiment after experiment. However, that wasn’t everything that was worrying about the situation. No, what had _really_ put Snow, Noel, and even Sazh on edge was the last message they had received from Hope scant weeks earlier.

_Stacks is gone. More are disappearing. I fear time is no longer on our side- never on our side to begin with. We had so much, and now none left. We have taken it for granted._

Sazh had gone so far as to ask Noel and Snow to watch over Dajh’s prone, sleeping form while he flew up to Bhunivelze to see for himself what was happening to his young friend, stopped only at the last minute by the insistence of both men that his son, though in a six-year coma, needed him more. The man’s faith in Hope had not wavered in the years that it took, knowing that he was doing what he could for both Dajh and the world, knowing that the burden he carried was far heavier than he let them know.

On top of the disappearances was the nightmare that Hope had told them about. There was a sour feeling in Noel’s mouth whenever he thought about it, a twisting in his gut that told him the nightmares that plagued his friend were not simple dreams constructed from his constant, powerful yearning for answers, for the truth, answers that would save them all. He knew Snow shared the same opinion; they had talked about it more than once, their concern for Hope coloring nearly all of their conversations. Whatever it was, they agreed, it was nothing good. It was obsessive, the way Hope had described it to them. Dark and dangerous, an inability to stop himself from running straight into what Snow and Noel both were certain was a trap, leading Hope deeper and deeper with no visible way out.

Damn Hope and his place in the world, his drive to solve all of its problems and to have all the answers, accountable to quite literally everyone.

Neither of them felt comforted with the thought of how Hope had returned to Bhunivelze on his own. The Chaos was gathering now, stronger than ever, around the Ark, creating a slight fog that enshrouded the structure until it was barely visible from Nova Chrysalia.

“Think it’s a good idea for us to head up there now?” Noel asked, tilting his chin up toward Bhunivelze.

Snow sighed heavily in response. “You know we won’t even be able to pass the atmosphere of the place without proper clearance. Although, given Hope’s lack of staff, that might not be a problem.”

“He’d be mad as a rampaging adamantoise though.”

They lapsed into silence once again, watching the river flow gently downstream.

“You know he’s not going to come ask for help until it’s too late,” Noel spoke up a few minutes later, a sinking feeling in his stomach once again. The scenery no longer looked as peaceful as it did just a few minutes ago. Gone was the moment of reprieve; reality was settling in once again, coming at him harder and faster and left him winded. His calloused hands clenched tightly into fists, blue eyes hard.

Snow’s sad gaze looked toward Bhunivelze, small and alone in the sky. He had always prided himself on being the hero. He always wanted to swoop in and help, to save the day if he could, but if there was one thing he had learned over and over and over again in the past centuries since Serah had convinced him Lightning had gone missing, it was that he couldn’t. Not always. He was helpless, caught up in the grand scheme of things. The only thing he could do was stop and do whatever he could where he was, hoping that it was enough, hoping that he wasn’t too late, too weak. First losing Lightning, then losing Serah, then working with Hope and Noel and Sazh in this new world- he knew he couldn’t always be the hero. He had to wait.

Except waiting seemed to be the only thing they could do these days. Wait for answers. Wait for Dajh to wake up. Wait for Hope to ask for help.

Wait and hope that by the time that happened, it wouldn’t be too late. Snow was terrified, and the storm clouds brewing in the distance advancing fast towards Luxerion only added on to the uncertainty, the fear that was quickly becoming tangible in the air. It grew heavy with the oncoming storm, enveloping both men in an unwanted embrace.

“We could just go, you know,” Snow said. “Screw how mad Hope is going to get at us. He can only be mad at us if he’s alive and well.”

 _And well_ , the two words that floated in between them, two unnecessary words that made the rest of the sentence far more dire. They both wanted to give Hope the space he would need, knowing that he would have to call in reinforcements sooner rather than later.

It wasn’t two weeks after their meeting on the clock tower that they met again in an airship to attempt to reach Bhunivelze, but found themselves too late, blocked by the Chaos, unable to pass. They radioed into Academy HQ for help, but even hours later, no one answered.


	6. ???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm. I'm scared. Help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH MY GOSH time completely slipped away from me. I hadn't realized I haven't updated in so long :( this chapter was kind of a struggle to get out, but I haven't had time to really sit down and finish writing. SO glad this is finished now! It's kind of the turning point in this arc of the story; I hope you all enjoy! Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking with me :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**??? - ???AF**

His head felt like it was about the split open; the pressure was enormous, rendering him unable to focus on anything else. The pounding of his heart silenced every other sound, his ragged breathing ringing in his own ears as he felt sweat drip down the side of his face and down his back. He felt his airway constrict, his lungs heaving for air. His eyes were blurry, black tendrils creeping along the edges and threatened to overtake him. Desperation gripped at him, forcing his weakened joints to move as his breaths came out in small, rapid puffs of air.

No. He couldn’t give in yet. There was more to do. He needed to tell them. He needed to warn them.

Stumbling over to his console, Hope held onto it for dear life with a grip so tight his knuckles turned white, gloves threatening to burst at the seams. He squinted at the bright screen, closing his eyes and typing out his message as coherently as he could with his brain feeling like an overly-full bounce house. He was tired, so, so tired…

_She’s here again. Rose-haired phantom. I told ypu about he. She’s ben. Visit. In dreams. Be careful of. Her._

His knee gave way and he crashed painfully onto the floor, smashing different keys on the keyboard. No, Hope _had_ to finish this, no matter what.

_Sthing bda. Terrible. Happen soon. I hear things. Hear things. The Sa. Savior. Savior. God...light. So britgh. Brigh. Bright. Bhunivelze._

“ _Hope_ ,” a soft voice said behind him, the sound causing a cold chill to trickle down his spine. His breathing shortened even more. It took everything in Hope’s willpower to not turn around and give in when everything in his body was screaming for him to, knowing that once he laid eyes on her, it would be all over. He would stop fighting, give himself up, and feel the sweet relief of surrender. Hope knew he should have told Snow and Noel and Sazh how bad the nightmares got, just how far into the darkness he had followed the rose-haired phantom in his desperate search for answers. It had become an addiction, chasing after barely-there responses and the elusive name that he could never remember, trying to remember where, exactly, he had known her. It was instinctive now to throw himself into the dark, lured by her promises until the darkness came at him with snapping jaws, dragging him down to a blind abyss, but it was too late, far too late for him.

He realized too late the death trap he had willingly, blindly walked into, but he couldn’t give in. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not just yet. There were the half-answers she had given that he had to tell them, he had to let them know.

_I’m. I’m scared. Help. She here._

“ _Hope_ ,” she said again.

_She’s here. Savior. Coming. Savior coming soon._

A faintly glowing hand landed on his left shoulder, its barely-there weight feeling like an anvil as Hope’s eyes darted to it.

_Vanille. Van…ille? Ligh. Lightning? Hair. Rose haired. Help._

“ _You’ll see, Hope_.” She spoke right next to his ear, and he shuddered from the cold, from terror. “ _I promised you would see all. The answers- you’ll have them. You’ll see everything_.”

 _I’m scared_.

He slowly turned, dread filling the pit of his stomach with ice-cold lead. His hands shook violently, teeth chattering as his tears kept flowing, jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to remember how to breathe.

It was as if a fog had lifted, the darkness and shadows gone from her face, and Hope could see her for the first time, a loud, broken cry sounding from his chapped lips. She…he had always thought it was a she…was a broken mosaic, her face fractured and shattered into broken puzzle pieces that tried to fit itself together- bits of Lightning here, bits of Serah there, and parts of Vanille, all smashed together to create one broken, horrified being. Her curled hair was an off-color somewhere between the shade of pink that had been the Farron sisters’ signature color and Vanille’s coral, limply framing her face.

Instantly, all of Hope’s strength deserted him. Time seemed to stand still, his own breathing now silent. The broken girl reached out her hand, and against his will, with no power left to fight, Hope took it, allowing her to pull him up and down the dark corridor where he had one last fleeting thought- the thought that it was just him left, that despite his best efforts, all of his friends and staff had disappeared, leaving miniscule traces of their non-existence behind.


	7. New World Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things had never looked so bleak. Perhaps, Noel thought later, he had spoken too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After another grueling few weeks, I is back with another chapter! Recently commemorated my first full year of work at my current job, so things have been super crazy. I guess it's the last push before we drop off a lot for the summer? Hopefully! That'll give me more time to write so we can finish this arc and get into the thrilling conclusion of this trilogy!!! I'm so excited, guys. Thank you guys for all your support :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**Luxerion – 831AF**

At first, they thought it was momentary- the Chaos surrounding Bhunivelze, that is. They thought that the Chaos had fried communications, that Hope was trying to patch his way through the storm to them. Then a day passed, then two days, then a week, then two weeks, then three, and still no one could get past the Chaos. Sazh even brought Dajh onboard an airship to try his luck, but he only shook his head as he walked back into his dilapidated house with his son in his arms. The news said it was the excess energy of Bhunivelze itself that was attracting all the Chaos and drawing some of it away from Nova Chrysalia. They went so far as to say it could be a good thing for the people, lessening the Chaos levels below. The Ark itself, barely visible through the thick smog, looked broken and crumbled. There was no evidence of anyone having lived there anymore, and Snow knew that if Hope could have seen it, it would have broken his heart.

They were forced to assume the worst. People panicked as the rumors spun the world, the Academy board desperately trying to keep things under wraps with no avail. Director Nazca’s hair nearly went white overnight; the woman’s hands were claws curled on the edge of her desk, her knuckles white, as Snow and Noel relayed Hope’s last message to her in her office, Noel’s mouth pressed into a thin line and Snow’s face hard as stone.

Neither man handled the message well when they first received it, both in a panicked flurry to rendezvous with Sazh in the Wildlands in the dead of night. They had despaired trying to reach Hope all night, hitting the barrier of Chaos in the airship that next morning, and then…nothing. The worst thing, the _very_ worst thing, they agreed, was that they had no answers. They didn’t know what happened to Hope, nothing about the rose-haired phantom he kept talking about, nothing about the supposed ‘Savior’ he mentioned in his message. The Savior again. Caius had talked about her before, back in the temple of Etro three hundred years ago when they found Lightning’s crystal. Could those things be linked? Could they be the same ‘Savior’, mentioned centuries apart? And what did Hope mean when he said something terrible was about to happen soon?

The only thing they knew for sure was that Hope was gone. There was no way to contact him, to rely on his wisdom and his intelligence to get them out of this, like the world had relied on him for hundreds of years. Hope, he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Snow and Noel felt it so much more than ever.

They knew that he had been terrified, and that they hadn’t been able to be there for him. This, more than anything else, broke all of them. Hope had been there for them, always, and the time that he needed them the most was the one time they couldn’t be there, never mind that they would have been helpless regardless.

Things had never looked so bleak. Perhaps, Noel thought later, he had spoken too soon.

Riots were a common occurrence now, all faith in the Academy and its enforcement having been lost along with the news of Hope’s disappearance. There really was no law and order, no one stepping up to the plate to take Hope’s place. Things couldn’t, Noel said to himself, _couldn’t_ get any worse. He could help, though, he knew. Snow was trying to do everything he could in Yusnaan, trying to keep things running, trying to keep the people there safe and distracted; it was like Dajh had said, hundreds of years ago- Yusnaan was now a place of festivities and celebrations, a place of revelry, a long drink from the proverbial wine goblet to forget about everything that was happening outside of Yusnaan’s borders. Snow seemed more haggard, more tired each time Noel saw him after, the strain of keeping the city running and supplying goods from Pandaemonium all over Nova Chrysalia taking its toll on him. Noel vowed, he promised, that he would do the same thing in Luxerion, on the other side of the continent.

And he would make sure he kept his promise, no matter how hard it was. Sazh had it harder, he told himself, with Dajh still in a coma. Snow, well, Snow was self-explanatory, the man pushing himself harder and harder until he broke, and even then, he kept going. Hope was nowhere to be found, not for months now. But if Noel was very, very honest with himself, things were getting harder by the day.

With the Academy’s fall, Director Nazca had lost all influence over the people, the Academy board acting only as a provisional governing body with no real power. New groups with disturbing beliefs had been springing up and using Luxerion as their base, with Noel having to crash their meetings more than once to break up their startling rituals that left him shaken at night, unable to sleep until the sun peeked over the horizon. Two groups among the many seemed the persist and gain even bigger followings despite his best efforts- a religious order that called themselves the Order of Salvation, and another group called the Children of Etro.

“The Savior is coming,” the Order of Salvation preached to the people. “Salvation is given to chosen few,” they said. “The dead are impure and unworthy of the new world that the Savior will lead us all to.”

They emerged just after news of Hope’s disappearance was leaked all over Nova Chrysalia, at a suspiciously convenient time, and instantly took over the Cathedral, making it their base of operations. It set Noel on edge, the speed at which they were gaining followers and spreading their teachings all over the continent.

The other group though, Children of Etro, were even more radical- and fanatical. Reports of murdered, mutilated young women began to surface, the seal of the Children of Etro nearby the bodies, in line with their ideals that the “Savior” was not truly a Savior- they were not to lead humanity to a new world, but they were to bring about the destruction of the world instead. That the only salvation to be found was in death.

Even more chilling, though, was that all of those young women had eerily similar-colored hair.

It looked like Serah’s.

It looked like Lightning’s.

Noel thought he was going to be sick the first time he saw the first body, the memory of his best friend dying in his arms playing over and over again in his mind’s eye; his mind projected Serah’s face on that mutilated corpse, and he found himself retching and heaving on the dead grass next to the dead girl.

Suddenly, the beautiful cobblestoned roads next to the calming Luxerion riverbank reminded him of dried blood, splattered everywhere. Trying to protect Luxerion, Noel wondered idly one day as he sat at the top of the clock tower, looking out at the river, how much more blood would be spilled?


	8. ???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can you handle it?" Lightning had asked him in the Gapra Whitewood lifetimes ago.
> 
> "It’s not a question of can or can’t," he told her, words that he clung to desperately now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAN, I had such a blast with this chapter. It was fun to see just how far down the rabbit hole I could take this, and it just turned out to be such a great result. It's...it's quite graphic, so if you have a squeamish stomach, I recommend you just leave me a comment at the bottom and I'll summarize the chapter for you ;) of course, my heart was hurting for poor Hope this chapter, but...the story must continue.
> 
> Thanks for being so patient with me, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**??? - ???AF**

Someone was screaming. They sounded so far away, the sound so muffled that they- or he- might have been underwater. His throat felt dry and raw, and the darkness around him seemed to lull him to sleep.

Another loud crack sounded, and the screaming got louder and louder until the pain pushed all his senses crashing back over him in one overwhelming wave, and he was above the metaphorical water now, gasping and struggling for air. Weakly, Hope opened his eyes wider to the startling sight of his right leg, shortened, bloodied, and broken. It took him a second to register the fact that he was seeing bone; his fibula was snapped cleanly in half and protruded halfway out from his shin. Blood gushed from the gaping wound, tainting the ivory of his bones, dying his skin in a dark red color. It flowed over the dried, brown blood on his ankle and foot. The shock was holding part of the pain back, some small corner of his mind whispered, tried to fight its way through the confusion and the agony. Pain brought clarity, and Hope remembered everything he didn’t want to remember.

He didn’t know how long he had been there, suspended in the midst of what seemed like a thick smog of Chaos energy, with what looked like a cascade of stars around him. These stars weren’t gentle; they didn’t twinkle and wink down at him like they did so many lifetimes ago when he was with his mother in Bodhum back on Cocoon. No, these seemed to mock him as he spent an eternity hung in front of an enormous eight-winged figure. On its head was a huge headdress that resembled what he remembered of Orphan on Cocoon, flanked by two wings. Its chest was bare, covered only in what looked like ceremonial armor, the gold twisted around the ceramic muscle. Swaths of rich purple cloth covered it from the waist down, the hemline of it disappearing and melting into the checkered pattern of the Great Chaos. It wielded a double-ended scythe in its left hand, the golden tips coated with blood. The figure’s cold eyes and sneering face taunted him, burning a single word into his muddled brain he wished he had never uttered those hundreds of years ago-

_This is our Ark, our haven. It will be called…_

_Bhunivelze._

_And it shall be the new home for the human race._

The name that he uttered between his dried, cracked lips were a very different name.

“Vanille…”

The corners of Bhunivelze’s lips pulled further up its cheeks, its incredibly sharp teeth pulling at the ceramic flesh in a horrifying grimace as it flicked its fingers at Hope, and then with another sickening crack and a sharp scream that brought blood bubbling from his throat, Hope’s right kneecap shattered. He should have learned, he thought to himself. Throughout however long Bhunivelze had him there, every time Hope called out for help, another part of him was broken. Lightning. Fang. Vanille, Sazh. Snow. Serah. Noel. His own mother, Nora. Lightning and Vanille, over and over and over and over again.

He was a scientist, Hope was. He hoped, he had hope always, but he also believed in truths, facts.

Fact: Bhunivelze had deceived him. The horrifying mirage of Lightning, Serah, and Vanille was merely a puppet, luring him straight into the god’s clutches.

Fact: Bhunivelze was ruthless. When Hope had first been restrained by the boundless Chaos, the god delved into his mind, tearing and clawing his way through every memory, every emotion, every decision, every thought, every single miniscule scrap of research Hope had conducted over the years, leaving nothing overturned in his head. When it was through, what remained of Hope’s brilliant mind felt like a scrambled mess, blood pouring out of it as it laid bare in front of the self-proclaimed deity.

Hope screamed and screamed until it was over. The literal invasion of his mind was more painful than anything he had endured in the hundreds of years he had been alive, more excruciating as his every thought, every intention was defiled and shredded.

After the mind, naturally, came the body.

 _I will make you…great_. Bhunivelze had said though its lips never moved except for the sneer. _You will see all, Hope Estheim. You will see everything_.

It started with his toes in his right foot. Bhunivelze crooked his finger, and one by one, each tiny bone broke clean in half. The second half of each bone had been taken out, and the god let Hope drown in his pain with each broken bone before healing it, shorter than it would have been. Then, it gathered his skin and stretched it over the newly-healed bone, stitching him together, then ripped the excess away and discarded it into a pile of useless, bloody skin.

As a result, his right foot and leg were shorter than his left, creating a gross disproportion of his broken, mangled body. Hope didn’t know how he had so much blood to lose, but it kept coming, a bright red waterfall that ran over the dark brown of its dried predecessors. He tried grasping on to something, anything- Lightning’s lessons, Fang’s strength, his mother’s gentle hugs…Vanille’s smiles.

 _Can you handle it?_ Lightning had asked him in the Gapra Whitewood lifetimes ago.

 _It’s not a question of can or can’t_ , he told her, words that he clung to desperately now.

She smiled proudly, with a nod of her head. _Now you’re learning. Keep your eyes front. I’ll watch the rear._

His memories blurred, fading into the breathtaking backdrop of the Yaschas Massif that beautiful, sunny day, and a girl with hair the color of the sunsets of Palumpolum- of home.

_Do something for me, will you? Keep smiling. I…It makes me happy when you smile._

All of them were fading now, even when he tried with all his strength to hold onto the memory like he did the centuries past.

_I…I didn’t know you felt that way!_

“Vanille,” he breathed, and the pain began again.


	9. The Death of Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else, he would think decades later, could he have done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW what a super long hiatus. This chapter is so freaking short, and yet, I had such a hard time with it...because this is a time of transition for all of our characters. There is so much change happening in these few short years that it's hard to pin down, hard to describe how they came to the decisions they did. Also because my friend is getting married tomorrow, and as part of the wedding party, between wedding and work and other stuff to take care of, life has really been kicking my butt.
> 
> All that to say- sorry for the wait! I will definitely try to update faster the next chapter. We're nearing the end of this arc, and then we'll be heading into the few years before Lightning Returns!! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**Yusnaan – 832AF**

With an almighty cry, Noel plunged his double sword into the enormous, overgrown Zaltys.

The monster didn’t stand a chance.

The Zaltys let out a dying scream; its body dissipated into nothingness, the hunter looking at the ground as he sheathed his swords behind his back. Not far from him, Snow Villiers stared at his friend with hard eyes.

The two of them saw each other less and less with each passing day after Hope’s disappearance. Sazh became more and more withdrawn, staying in the Wildlands with Dajh, who was still unconscious…had been unconscious for seven years now. The man was losing hope, had lost hope. He wasn’t the only one; Snow could see it in Noel’s eyes too, the light in them dimming as the brown hardened, from warm to unforgiving, a wall he was building against the world. Sometimes, he thought back to the past and his heart would ache, whether for Serah, for Lightning, for Hope, for Vanille and Fang, for Dajh and Sazh. He missed them, the little ragtag family that he had found in their very first journey those hundreds of years ago. He felt the ache of missing Nix and Stiria, of his eidolith, of being unable to fight alongside them in battle.

He missed the days where he was in the Sunleth Waterscape, where he saw his beautiful fiancé and his brunette friend, his eyes twinkling as he did what he could to take down the threat to Vanille and Fang trapped in the crystal pillar, to save Cocoon once again. He missed the days where he and Serah and Lebreau and Maqui and Yuj and Gadot lounged about in Bodhum, the peaceful sunlight warming the sand underneath their feet as they ran to the waves. Those were lifetimes ago- Lebreau, Maqui, Yuj, and Gadot were long dead. He knew this; the price of being able to traverse back and forth in time in the Historia Crux meant that sacrifices were to be had, and loved ones lost to the winds and whims of change.

And right now, Snow missed the way Noel’s brown eyes would widen in wonder, would squint in laughter as he and Hope found something else to laugh over in this dying world, as Serah drew laugh after laugh after laugh out of him during their journey. Noel, he could see, was becoming more withdrawn by the day. Hope was gone, Dajh was comatose, Sazh was griefstricken, Serah was dead, and Vanille, Fang, and Lightning were crystals. Noel, he feared, was losing direction. He wanted to help as much as he could, going on hunts with the young hunter, but it seemed that business in Yusnaan was always drawing him back one way or another, always cutting short the time he could be spending with Noel, trying to preserve the one tiny bit of the family he had left.

Not that the other things that preoccupied his attention weren’t important. Far from it, in fact.

Snow was worried. And when Snow worried, things were definitely going in the _wrong_ direction. The Order of Salvation, thought based in Luxerion with their enormous Cathedral, had been spreading their preachings and doctrines into Yusnaan, attempting to take over the city in a whirlwind of propaganda and belltollers, hollering at people to save themselves through entrusting their souls to Bhunivelze. They began to get into skirmishes with the Children of Etro right in the heart of Yusnaan, the guards too late to stop them. Snow himself bore witness to one before he forcefully decreed no more, resorting his l’Cie powers to keep both groups at bay. After that, the Order began to take more subtle approaches, getting closer and closer to Pandaemonium each day.

The Academy had all but fallen, and with the wind of politics, after three centuries, Snow could tell that things were beginning to fall into the Order’s favor.

He couldn’t let that happen. To let the Order take over Yusnaan, over Pandaemonium, would be to monopolize Nova Chrysalia’s food supply. As the unofficial leader of the district, Snow knew he still had some sort of autonomy in bargaining with the Order. He knew he had some tough choices to make- his options were limited, neither fighting nor fleeing would work Yusnaan and its people’s best interest. What else, he would think decades later, could he have done? How else could he have preserved Dajh’s vision for what the city should be, with what innocence was left in this dying world?

And Noel, having not seen Snow in three days, was shocked and betrayed to see his friend on TV the fourth day declaring himself Patron of Yusnaan under the rule of the Order of Salvation.


	10. Shadows Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m terrified because I feel like I’m losing myself, as if we haven’t lost enough. Haven’t we lost enough?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another month-long wait for a new chapter...I'm seeing a trend here ;p here it is, the newest chapter of this fic! This is the SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER!!! I can't believe it. We're almost done with this arc!! That's incredibly exciting, because after this is the final arc where we'll finally get into the final years, months, and days that take place just before Lightning Returns. Thank you guys so much for your patience and support; here's a 2k chapter serving as my recompense for my month-long hiatus. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Final Fantasy XIII series

**Luxerion – 832AF**

There was no better place in the city, Noel was sure of it. The river wind soothed him like nothing else, and being so high up gave him a complete birds-eye view of everything around him. He was a hunter; it was in his nature to be completely aware of his surroundings, and here, on top of the clock tower that overlooked Luxerion, he was on top of the world. It was a hunter’s instinct to find high ground, to track his prey. It was his place to escape, to feel the breeze through his hair and the sun- never very strong, it was never sweltering this city- to forget.

He was at least partially, if not completely, responsible for the current state of the world. He was responsible for killing Caius, the goddess Etro; responsible for Serah’s death, responsible for Hope’s disappearance, responsible for all those who could never form a family or have children, responsible for all those who couldn’t die from old age because they could never age. His guilt and his anger at himself created a roaring inferno inside, burning him alive day after day after day. That was part of why he tried so hard when he went on raids- because it was something he could do to help. Noel swore to himself that he would never be as helpless as when both Yeul and Serah died in his arms.

He knew this, this raging desperation driving him forward. It was clear to him; he could feel a little of himself slipping away, day by day. He felt it as he and Snow fought alongside each other, felt it with every victory he celebrated while some of the men from the Academy never made it home.

Immortality…it was a lie. Those who wanted to live forever did not realize the full measures of their wish and could not see what a curse it was to live, unending, day after day after day, only to die in every other painful way. Death by old age, it was a blessing. Noel had known this from the time he spent in his little village, watching those he loved pass away around him, one after another, until he was the only one left.

Noel needed to tell someone. To keep himself sane, he knew this. He wanted to tell Snow. Hope was no longer around, and Sazh was sinking, spiraling in his own grief. He had no one else to rely on. And that fact, that was what made his rage burst forth, causing him to destroy a good chunk of the wall at Luxerion’s North Station when he saw on the news, the _news_ , not even Snow himself, that Snow had become the Patron of Yusnaan under the command of the Order of Salvation.

He wanted it to not be real; he wanted it to be a hoax, like so many other things in the news was. The situation looked bleaker and bleaker as he called Snow again and again on his mobile, getting nothing but his voicemail time and time again.

That was it, then. Noel was on his own.

After the spectacle he made, he ran to the clock tower, waiting for his temper to cool, waiting for the next logical step to come to his helpless, frantic brain.

It came to him a few hours later, on the river wind that rustled his clothes and played with his soft brown hair that calmed him quicker than anything else- if he had no one to turn to, Noel would take matters into his own hands…and it would start with the Order of Salvation. Satisfied, Noel jumped off the top of the clock tower, disappearing into the Luxerion streets below.

* * *

Darkness saw a shadow stealing along cobblestone streets, darkened feet only barely touching the stones below as it stole along the walls of the city. It silently made its way to the towering Cathedral, still lit despite the dead hours between morning and night. Finding a side entrance was easy; breaking in was even easier. Despite its looming appearance, the Cathedral wasn’t guarded.

Carefully shutting the door behind him, Noel warily looked around. He had never been inside before and had no idea what he was looking for- his general plan of attack from earlier on the clock tower that afternoon had been to try to stamp out the root of the Order of Salvation, starting from their base of operations in the city.

The interior of the Cathedral was as grand and dismal as it looked from the outside. The high ceiling looked to be three stories high- it was sure to capture any sound that resonated through the sanctuary. Noel would have to be exceptionally and exceedingly quiet and conscientious of his movements. Tall windows lined the walls, moonlight and starlight spilling onto the adjacent walls and the checker-tiled floor. Steel beams lined the columns, arching overhead alongside the ceiling to create elaborate steel-wrought patterns. Open balconies lined the walls of the second story, revealing empty galleries peering down at the space below.

Creeping forward, Noel looked at the wooden pews on either side of him, then at the guard-railed walkway past that that led from the altar at the front of the room to the main doors of the Cathedral. On either side of the guard rails led to a floor beneath the one he was standing on, possibly passage for Order of Salvation members. He made a mental note to find a way to access the bottom floor- it might just contain the answers he was looking for. At the front of the room was a set of double arches atop a simple wooden altar, decorated with just a set of candles.

Stairs led to side rooms and back rooms just behind and to the sides of the altar. Narrowing his eyes, Noel analyzed each wide-arched doorway before finally picking one at random- the one to his right, the closest one to the side door he came in from- and prayed for luck.

The enormous doorway led to a straight passage with several rooms lining the interior wall. The first room yielded nothing, but contained another door in the back of the room. The hunter wasn’t discouraged. He crept quietly across the room, opening the door to the next one. This one held a simple wooden table, again with two candles burning on it. A chair was pushed in front of the table, but other than those two pieces of furniture, there was nothing of use to him either. Shaking his head, he continued onward- beyond the next door was another open-arched doorway, leading into another long hallway. He melted into the shadows, stealing along the hallway until he saw a smaller door to the side, open just a tad and with a flickering light coming from the inside. He pushed the door open, and what he saw in that room completely stole the breath from his lungs.

This room was also sparsely furnished, also with nothing save for a table and a pair of candlesticks, the candles burning merrily away. However, there was also an enormous bed in the center of the room, one that looked like it used to be a four-poster bed before the canopies and posts were ripped away from it. A single white sheet was laid on top of the mattress, and on top of _that_ , casting a calming blue glow about the room, was Vanille and Fang’s crystal.

“Fang…? Vanille?” Their names came out in breathy whispers.

Noel felt his defenses instantly drop as he quietly closed the door behind him. His breathing quickened, his arms gone slack to his sides as his feet mechanically lurched him forward to the two Pulsians in crystal stasis. Their hands were still clasped together, as they had been for hundreds of years, their eyes closed. They looked exactly the same as when he had seen them last…in Hope’s laboratory on Bhunivelze.

Something wasn’t right.

It burned at the edges of his mind, the question he turned over and over again with furrowed brows and questioning eyes. Hope would never have entrusted Vanille and Fang to anyone outside of himself, Sazh, and Snow, but he did neither of those things before his inexplicable disappearance and the gathering of Chaos around Bhunivelze.

So how, Noel thought hard, did they end up _here_?

Emotions warred within him; half of him wanted to continue the puzzle of how the Order of Salvation managed to get their hands on Vanille and Fang, and, more importantly, whether they understood the significance of what they had, and the other half of him, the bubbling desperation and relief that threatened to pull him under, wanted to allow him to break down at the sight of their familiar faces.

The pull of his own emotions proved stronger than anything else. Gripping Fang’s crystal arm tightly, as if her strength would transfer to him by touch alone, Noel took a deep breath and sank to the floor, his breath coming in quick and his chest heaving from dry sobs.

“Hey Fang, Vanille,” he whispered. “It’s me. Noel. It’s been so long.”

He let out everything that he had kept bottled up, everything from losing Serah to Dajh’s coma, Hope’s disappearance to Snow’s apparent betrayal. Deep down, his logic told him that Snow had to have had a reason. If it were the old him, Noel would have thought it through and understood.

Instead, right now, he felt abandoned and alone.

“I’m terrified,” he admitted through gritted teeth. “I’m terrified because I feel like I’m losing myself, as if we haven’t lost enough. Haven’t we lost enough?!” Noel demanded, his heart cracking in two as he voiced his thoughts aloud for the first time.

He lost track of how long he stayed there on his knees, clinging to Fang’s arm like a lifeline until all his emotions drained from him, leaving him numb, leaving him tired.

Leaving him. Everything, everyone leaving him.

Except Vanille and Fang, he thought as he sobered up. Standing, Noel winced a little at the blood rushing back into his stiff knees, cracking his back before removing his hand from Fang’s, placing it on Vanille’s instead.

“He loved you, you know,” the hunter told her softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say it out loud, but he does. He worked hard to make a world you could come back to, somewhere you and Fang and Lightning and Serah could call home. Vanille,” Noel continued, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Vanille, Hope is gone. He just…disappeared. And no one knows where he is.”

“I’m not sure what I can help with right now, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do something. I can’t count on Sazh or Snow anymore. It’s just me, hiding in the shadows.”

A wry grin stretched on his face. “The Shadow Hunter. Huh. I like it.”

Noel put his hand on top of Vanille and Fang’s where they met in the crystal’s center, gripping it tightly before forcing himself to let go. It should be dawn soon; he needed to clear out of the Cathedral before anyone caught him. The Order of Salvation, however they managed to get ahold of their crystal, would be fiercely protective of it, and if they caught him, well, that would put a quick end to his plans of opposing them. There would no doubt be people coming to check up on the crystal soon.

“I’m not sure how else I can help at the moment, but I’ll watch over you guys. If it’s all I can do, at least it’s a start. I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

With a final squeeze to their crystal hands, Noel crept out of the room and out of the Cathedral just as the first lights of morning began to break over the horizon.


	11. ???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are almost ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :) I am back after a month and a half long hiatus! With an exceedingly short chapter, but this is the final chapter until the last installment of this trilogy. YAY!!!! :) So even though this particular chapter was short, it's definitely a segway into the next one. Then we'll be cutting into the timeline for Lightning Returns! Thanks for sticking with me, with this fic, and with this trilogy! See you all next time! :)

**??? – ???AF**

There was no strength left in him, not even to scream.

His throat was raw and hoarse, bleeding on the inside from abuse and misuse. Everything hurt, everything stung, everything ached. Everything was stretched thin and tired, everything broken. Pools of dried blood marked the ground, the rusty brown an ugly scar on the pristine floors. Both his legs and his arms had been shattered and put back together, his skin raw from being shredded and sewn together.

He did want to scream. He really wanted to scream, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted…

He wanted to so many things. He wanted to remember which name, which names he wanted to scream, which ones had caused his throat to bleed from overuse. He couldn’t recall what shapes his mouth made to form their names, couldn’t recall their faces or their smiles or the color of their eyes.

The only thing he could think about, the only thing he could latch onto was the constant pain. A loud crack came from his torso; one of his ribs were broken. He couldn’t even muster the energy to yell, only wordlessly, soundlessly writing as he hung suspended in the air.

_Crack!_

_Crack!_

_Crack!_

_Crack!_

Three more ribs broke, he knew, right down the middle. The skin covering his bones was slowly peeled away, half his bones taken out before his skin was meticulously measured and slowly, excruciating slowly, ripped away and sewn back together.

Though his body had long since gotten used to the pain, but that didn’t stop stars from exploding behind his closed eyelids, a weak pant forcing its way up his dry, parched throat and coming out as a shallow breath.

“You are almost ready.”


End file.
